


Scenes from a Repatriation

by Raven (singlecrow)



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlecrow/pseuds/Raven
Summary: The diamond was called the Koh-i-Noor, which meant ‘mountain of light’.





	Scenes from a Repatriation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SadieFlood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieFlood/gifts).



The guy who came up was cute, well-dressed in a _Queer-Eye_ -endgame kinda way, skinny black tie, nice waistcoat. He leaned against the wall with his hands on his knees and was like, _I hear you're good_. 

"You're not doing us a fucking favour," Debbie said. "Tell us the job, tell us the cut, get the hell out."

He did get the hell out, but not before he’d laid it all out for them. An interesting job, for the right individual or group of individuals; pleasantly perilous but not suicidally so; and a diamond. A big diamond. A really fucking big diamond.

"What you’d call a discrete item," Debbie said. "Tell us the cut." 

"Whatever else you like from inside the glass case," the dude said. "All other expenses paid."

Debbie wanted to decide it democratically or some shit like that, but the second the guy was out the door and on the sidewalk, Nine Ball was on her laptop and the diamond's very own actual Wikipedia page. "It's a motherfucking big diamond," she observed, and that was that.

*

"Wonder what he's gonna do with it," Lou said later. "Set it into a throne maybe."

"That's racist," Nine Ball said. 

"You figure?”

“Ain’t a matter of me figuring. You see some Indian guy, you hear he wants a big diamond, you instantly on that maharajah shit. Maybe he wants it for a table centrepiece or to put on his Christmas tree.”

Krishna laughed when Nine Ball asked him. “Not a throne or a Christmas tree,” he said. “I just want to have it. Have you ever wanted something just to have it?” 

“Yeah,” Lou and Nine Ball said together.

*

The diamond was called the Koh-i-Noor, which meant ‘mountain of light’. It was the world’s largest cut diamond. It had been obtained by the British in India in the nineteenth century and despite many inquiries through official channels, never returned after independence.

There were some long-ass flights involved. But casing the joint was as simple as buying a weekend ticket – for eight of them, they got the family rate – to see the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London. They went past the glass case on a little travelator thing and took pictures, and the tour guide guy asked, “You girls on a hen do or something?”

“Yeah,” Daphne said, in an English accent. She giggled. “We wanted to see some bling.”

*

“What do you want to have, just to have it?” Lou asked. It was quiet, and she swung slowly back and forth like a pendulum on the dropline. The glass case was below her and inside it the diamond cut the light into shards. Lou watched for movement in the corners of the room and thought it over. Nine Ball had spent her share of the Met Gala money on Nine Ball’s, the bar, which Lou liked even when the proprietor wasn’t around; it had a decent pool table and twelve kinds of premium vodka. The rest of the money was in a trust fund for her sister’s college tuition. That kid had better study, Lou had heard Nine Ball say; slacking was for white girls and legacy fuckboys.

But Nine Ball was practical, that was the point – her bar was a place where people could drink and hang out and play pool; Veronica’s money was being spent on her education. Nine Ball didn’t do useless bling, unlike the goddamn Queen of England. Lou didn’t either, mostly, but she hadn’t needed the bike. She’d wanted it just to have it.

“Kinda busy here, Lou,” Nine Ball said over her earpiece. She was in the van outside, hacking the security. Debbie and Daphne were making some kind of fuss for the security guards. So far all to plan. 

“Yeah, sorry. Later.”

“Go,” Nine Ball said. Lou let herself down on the line, through the open space where the infrared beams suddenly weren’t. Amita had fixed her up with a nice quiet glass-cutter. The diamond came out clean and cold in her hand.

*

It went smooth. Lou walked out the building just before the alarm was raised and headed back to their Air BnB. She rode the DLR before the commuter rush with the weight of the take in her coat pockets. When she got back the van wasn't there yet but Daphne and Amita were unpacking takeout containers.

“Where does delivery at six in the morning?” Lou asked. No one answered. Lou figured early-morning takeout was just the magic of living outside the law. She put the rest of the spoils – more random jewels, a big fuck-off sapphire, some cute old spoons and other stuff – safe in the refrigerator. The Koh-hi-Noor diamond went on the centre of the table, next to a jug of sparkling water and a pile of plastic forks. Lou flicked through the news of the theft on her phone.

“Stop reading your notices,” Daphne said. She spooned out aloo gobi on a paper plate and poured out sparkling water. Lou went for a cigarette and came back inside to eat. When she got back, the van was parked up outside and everyone had a plate.

*

“I’ll show you what I wanted to have just to have it,” Nine Ball said later. 

She reached into her shirt and pulled out a necklace. Lou took two seconds to recognise one of the remaining gems from the Toussaint, in a hip, geometric setting. 

“Amita made it,” Nine Ball said. “She said she’d make it look cute for me. The kid did the clasp.”

Lou reached out despite herself. She froze when she realised she was about to feel up Nine Ball by mistake; Nine Ball smiled and said, “You can touch it.”

Lou touched it. Unlike the other diamond, it was skin-warmed, its sparkle tempered. If Veronica had done the clasp, it wouldn’t come off at Lou’s touch or anyone’s. “You kept it,” she said.

“Ain’t no one taking that from me,” Nine Ball said. “They always take your shit. Not this.”

She kissed Lou on the lips, because they were standing so close. 

Lou smiled. “You don’t get _that_ just to have it,” she said. “Make some damn effort. Treat me nice.”

“Okay.” Nine Ball reached over her shoulder, refilled a glass of sparkling water and gave it to Lou. “Maybe I will.”

On the other side of the table, Krishna was holding the Koh-hi-Noor diamond with one hand and eating chapatti and chicken makhani with the other. He got the butter sauce on his hands and on the jewel, licked it off, licked his fingers, took another bite. 

“They take your shit from you,” Nine Ball said again. “Krishna, clean the fuck up.”

Krishna took the napkin she offered him, polished the diamond and tossed it from hand to hand. “Thanks for the food,” he said. “I’ll leave you with some phone numbers.”

*

The phone numbers were always answered by serious-sounding guys with Indian accents. The Koh-hi-Noor hadn’t ever been insured – the premiums cost more than the highest level of security – so it wasn’t insurance investigators who came round in the next couple of days, but actual uniformed police. They didn’t have guns or warrants, and after a while the serious-sounding Indian guys made them go away. Lou liked them; they dressed nicely, in sharp shirts and Nehru jackets, and declined with great politeness when anyone offered them a drink. The uniformed police didn’t come back.

Krishna gave the Koh-hi-noor to the National Museum in New Delhi. Lou and Nine Ball played pool, drank vodka, and went back to the Tower of London to see the ravens; the ticket was good for multiple entry if you came back within a year.


End file.
